


Welcome Home

by Anonymous



Category: Hat Films - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Face-Fucking, M/M, Welcome Home Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 20:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17884244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Trott's been away on a trip. Smith missed him.A fill from thisprompt listthe prompt was "pinning the other against a wall"





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [An anonymous person who didn't forget this.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=An+anonymous+person+who+didn%27t+forget+this.).



> Posted originally to tumblr, subsequently deleted. Reposted now for the person who was looking for it. 
> 
> If you find this: please comment and let me know. Anonymous commenting is on. Comment moderation is also on(edit: turns out I didn't have it on, but it is definitely on now.), so if you want me to know who you were you can comment as yourself and I won't publish the comment to the work. You can also leave me a way to get in touch with you if you want. I'd like to pull this down once you've got a copy.
> 
> That said, I'm glad to know that people still remember these; for better or for worse.

The front door slammed shut, and the distinctive sound of a backpack hitting the entryway floor and keys jangling onto their hook pulled Smith up and off the sofa before he even fully registered his finger hitting pause on the remote. 

_ Trott was home. _

It’s not like he’d been poised on the sofa all afternoon, obsessively checking the British Airways website to see if Trott’s flight had landed. As if he’d paid the slightest attention to David Attenborough’s soothing narrations of HD nature footage. And he’d certainly not gotten up to pace down the stairs to the kitchen, look at a different clock to make sure that the one in the living room wasn’t slow, then trudge back up the stairs to not listen to more facts about deserts. 

“Smith?” Trott called, appearing on the landing just as Smith reached the top of the stairs. Even jet lagged to hell and back, dark circles under his eyes betraying Trott’s inability to sleep on the plane, he looked hot as hell. Trott smiled, and Smith thought that absence didn’t really need to work much to make his heart fond, but it sure as hell didn’t hurt. 

He didn’t let Trott any further up the stairs, crashing into him right there on the landing, and immediately planting his lips on Trott’s. Smith’s momentum crashed them into the wall, the thud not managing to completely mask Trott’s surprised noise. Hungrily he kissed Trott, biting at his lower lip, urging Trott’s mouth open so he could slide their tongues together. The buttons on Trott’s coat came undone easily beneath his hands, and he pulled back for just long enough to get Trott away from the wall, work it off of Trott’s shoulders, and drop it to the floor. 

“I missed you,” Smith said. Pushing Trott back against the wall, he bent to bury his nose in Trott’s hair, nipping at his ear.

“Clearly,” Trott gasped. Trott fisted a hand in his hair, pulling him back and kissing him again. This time it was Trott who pressed. Despite the leg Smith had between his legs, the way Smith held him firmly against the builder’s beige that was the uniform color their house had come with, Smith felt himself bending to Trott’s desire. 

He squirmed, moaning as he tried to somehow press their bodies closer. The ache in his heart had settled somewhere distinctly further south, the weeks spent with just his hand and Trott’s texts demanded to be forgotten with an immediate remedy.  

Trott’s hand tugged insistently at his hair. He whined, but pulled back. Trott was breathing hard, face flushed. Smith cupped Trott’s cheek with his hands, rubbing his thumb over Trott’s cheekbone and enjoying the view while Trott wanted him here.

“If you expect me to take care of that,” Trott glanced pointedly downwards, “we’re going to need to move this to the bedroom.”

“Front pocket,” Smith mumbled. He didn’t want to let go of Trott for one second.

“Excuse me?” Trott laughed, giving Smith a confused look.

“Check my front pocket. Left.”

“Seriously Alex Smith? Expecting a happy reunion in the hall were we?” Trott waved the little bottle of lube he’d pulled from Smith’s jeans.        

The corner of Trott’s mouth quirked, teeth just barely flashing behind the amused smile. His eyes narrowed. Yes. Finally. 

Smith didn’t put up any resistance as Trott backed him up, guiding him 90 degrees to the right. Now it seemed it was Smith’s turn to have his back to the wall. Trott looked up at him, the intensity of his stare taking Smith from eager anticipation to need. 

“Get on your knees Sunshine.”

Smith dropped, knees hitting the carpet with a dull thud. Face to face with the bulge at the front of Trott’s sweatpants, Smith swallowed hard. 

“Trott?” He asked, voice wobbling a bit. This wasn’t like he’d planned, but he didn’t want to say no to that voice. Quite the opposite.

“Hold this.” Smith wordlessly did as he was commanded, taking the offered lube back. Trott combed his fingers through Smith’s hair, spending a delicious moment just dragging his nails across Smith’s scalp, parting the waves this way and that. Smith resisted the urge to complain when Trott stopped. He knew Trott would happily spend plenty of time petting Smith’s hair once they were done. Deft fingers pulled out the bow that held Trott’s sweatpants on his narrow hips.

“This is for not even letting me up the goddamn stairs.”

Hooking his thumbs in the waistbands of his boxers and sweats, Trott tugged them down. His cock slid free, hard and unbearably close to Smith’s face. Trott took a last step forward, small but still enough to crowd Smith the last few centimeters closer to the wall. Trott braced a hand, seemingly far above Smith. His shoulders pressed against the hard and unyielding surface, skull making contact as Trott’s oh so gentle fingers tilted his chin up.  Dutifully he parted his lips, licking them in anticipation.

“Two taps, if its too much okay?”

Smith nodded, and Trott grinned wolfishly. Locking eyes with Smith he guided his cock into Smith’s waiting mouth with one hand. The head pushed past his lips, and Smith eagerly swiped his tongue against the hot skin.

Trott didn’t pause, pushing his cock further into Smith’s mouth in a slow but deliberate slide. Smith reached for Trott’s ankle with the hand not clutching the lube. He needed something to ground himself. Trott’s hand moved to cup the back of his head, and Smith focused on breathing steadily through his nose. All he could do was relax as Trott carefully started to make shallow thrusts in his mouth.

“Fuck,” Trott hissed. Smith whined as he pushed deeper, eyes closing almost involuntarily for a moment. His own cock throbbed in his jeans, but he knew better than to make a move to touch himself. This pleasure was more than enough.

Trott shifted his hips to angle deeper, and Smith felt himself almost gag. Trott gasped, as Smith tried to swallow reflexively. The feeling of being used burned in him; desperately he tried to work his tongue better, open his mouth a bit wider so Trott could properly fuck it. Trott pet his face, pulling out almost entirely for a moment before thrusting back into Smith’s waiting mouth.

“That’s it sunshine.” Trott moaned, hips stuttering.   

Smith looked up at Trott, looking for approval in his eyes to match the praise in his words. Trott’s deep brown eyes met his, hazy and out of focus. 

“Good boy,” Trott breathed, “So good for me.” Smith tightened his fingers around Trott’s ankle, squeezing. He hoped Trott understood, that Smith wanted this. Wanted to be good for Trott. 

Laying his forearm against the wall, Trott buried his face against his elbow. Smith could feel how he shook, swallowing around Trott’s cock to hear him moan.

“Smith- close-” Trott groaned, breathing growing more ragged. His cock filled Smith’s mouth, unrelenting as Trott picked up his pace in the last moments before he came.  

With a muffled gasp, Trott pulled back just enough to give Smith room to swallow as he came. Obediently Smith did, the bitter taste of Trott welcome.

Trott stilled, chest heaving above Smith as he came down from his orgasm. After a moment he sighed, pulling his softening cock away.

Smith panted, taking the breaths he’d been unable to fully get with Trott’s cock in his mouth. He watched as Trott grimaced, putting his boxers and sweatpants back in place despite the mess. 

“On your feet again Smith. Face the wall and strip if you want me to give you the appropriate thanks for letting me fuck your face.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and Smith needed no further prompting. His fingers shook, fumbling with the button and zipper on his jeans. He kicked them to the floor with his boxers, nearly tripping and face planting into the wall as he tried to take his T-shirt off at the same time. 

Behind him he heard Trott chuckle, and smiled. Gingerly he braced himself, sweat making his palms stick against the wall. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead gasped more in surprise than any real pain as Trott’s hand connected lightly with his ass. Trott pressed against him, encouraging him forward further. Smith knew he had enough weight to resist Trott’s urging. He let Trott press against him so his front was completely against the wall. Smith turned his head, the paint cool against the heat of his skin. Smith felt the prickle of goosebumps on his arms. 

The telltale snap of the lube bottle clued him in to Trott’s plans. He still jerked in surprise as slick fingers rubbed his hole. Trott’s right arm pressed against his shoulders, and Smith felt thoroughly pinned. Already his aching cock was leaking against the wall. Someone was going to have to clean that.

One of Trott’s fingers slid into him, and he made no effort to contain his noises of pleasure. He moaned, wanting Trott to know how good it felt. Trott worked him steadily, pushing him to take another finger, then a third, in quick but not unbearable succession. 

As Trott rocked his hand, pushing his fingers deep into Smith, he pressed against Smith’s prostate with the practiced ease. Smith’s cries reverberated in the echoey stair, but he didn’t care. He was much too far gone to play the quiet game and make Trott work to get him to come. Each movement of Trott’s hand tilted Smith closer and closer to toppling over the edge of orgasm. 

Smith wavered on the edge, wanting this feeling of Trott pressed against his back, Trott’s fingers inside him, Trott’s lips pressing kisses into his shoulder, to last forever. But  _ god _ he also wanted to come.

“Please Trott,” he practically whimpered.

“Do you want to come? Is that it?” Trott said, voice low. Smith moaned, nodding. 

“Yes,” he panted. He knew Trott wanted him to say it, but the shame of begging only sweetened the pleasure of the act. “Please, Trott make me come.”

“Oh alright, you. Go ahead.” Trott kissed his shoulder again fondly.

Smith groaned with relief, losing himself again as Trott’s fingers sped up. He could feel his orgasm building, and this time he did nothing to stop it. Arching his back screwing his eyes shut, Smith came hard enough he saw stars. 

He sagged, muscles relaxing as the pleasure faded. Trott let him slide to the floor, joining him on the carpet. Trott leaned against the clean wall and pulled Smith into his lap, running his fingers through Smith’s hair. The ringing in Smith’s ears gradually faded, and his breathing slowed. 

“You good?” Trott asked, giving Smith a peck on his forehead.

“Yeah. Very.” Smith grinned at him, and Trott snorted. “I missed you.”

“That is the dopiest expression I think I’ve ever seen you make,  _ Alex _ , and you’re the king of dopey faces.” Trott hugged him tightly, and Smith suspected his face only got worse.


End file.
